Drew the Line
by The Sketchywallflowr
Summary: Mal has found an obnoxious stowaway on board. No one can justify her staying, but everyone seems to get along well with her and she's the only person crew included who seems to understand River's troubled mind.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Done for fun, not profit. Most everything owned by Joss Whedon and crew.

* * *

Excerpt from the daily journal of Simon Tam- June 18

I didn't like her the first time she came onto the ship. Too much like Jayne- gun-toting, crude, dirty, tactless and quick-tempered. The bigger downside was that unlike Jayne, she isn't stupid. Her wit is quick and scathing. She's perceptive to the point of precognitive. She laughs at others misfortune, she's indifferent to anyone's feelings and is quick to point out faults (or even just when you're wrong). Unfortunately I can't bring myself to hate her because she likes River. No, that's not quite accurate. She likes, appreciates, even understands River. I know there have been times when my sister has scared people with her almost superhuman abilities. Even her own crew, her friends, cannot see her the way they used to anymore. She's lost all innocence she once held.

Yet this girl, this newest addition to the insanity of life on the Rim, appreciates River's (and I quote directly) "badassitude". The thought of a sixteen year old girl surviving a Reaver attack doesn't phase her in the least. She listens to River's incoherent babbling, even asks her questions about it. Most of the time my sister will not give her a clear answer, I assume because she can't, but the fact that she even tries is amazing. Every member of my crew looks to one another awkwardly whenever River has a burst of insight that comes from someone else's mind, either someone in the room she's in or someone whom she has never met. The newest member of our absurd family will think a moment on River's words, consider if they are worth acknowledging, and either respond appropriately (or not) or ignore it and go about her life. There was a particular instance in which River screamed and began shaking, looking around her at the people no one could see or hear. Her lips trembled as she informed us that the men were everywhere, the school wouldn't stop it and they all had rape on their minds. It was a very vivid memory, one I'm not sure is one of River's own or an infused one, and it was scaring her very much. Everyone else listened on bated breath, not sure what to do or say. I tried to console River as best I could but she thrashed against me, I suppose convinced I was one of the men out to harm her. But this girl, this crass, weapon crazy girl, simply looked at my sister and said very calmly "If they try to rape you, little girl, you just go and rape them right back." And River paused a moment, then smiled, then laughed. "I could," she admitted, looking prideful. "Very badly."

I'm not sure how I should be taking this. On the one hand I'm glad that she could calm River, even make her at ease in the face of something to tragic. On the other hand… what does it say about my life as a doctor if all my sister needs is a smartass teenager asking her questions that knocks her sense of thinking off balance enough to get the memories to stop? It sounds like I'm jealous and I swear I'm not. I'm simply confused and concerned. And very, very wary. Why doesn't anything River says upset this girl? It feels like she's hiding something, and if that something is a deep connection to the Alliance then I don't want her anywhere near River. I hate to sound paranoid even to myself, but what if she's a spy? Maybe she's not phased by River's abilities because she already knew about them before she came on board. Then again, wouldn't River already know? She always knows. I'm just cautious right now. I'm glad River has found a friend she cannot scare, but I'm not about to let my guard down yet.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Done for fun, not profit. Most everything owned by Joss Whedon and crew.

* * *

When Captain Reynolds had found her stowed away in the cargo area, he'd been wary about knocking around a teenager, no matter how burly she looked. That was, until she pulled a gun on him and told him to get out of her face. Then he chuckled a moment before punching her lights out.

They restrained her in the infirmary and searched her knapsack for identification. "She's got no id card or nothing," Jayne informed them, having dumped the contents of the girl's bag onto the infirmary floor. "Just a bunch of girl stuff." He kicked through the rubble with his booted toe. "Looks like we got… a book, clothes… a Kevin .380 ACP??" A small handgun scraped across the tile floor from beneath a rumpled pair of denim pants.

"S'a replica," the girl mumbled drowsily from the table. "Gotta laser scope."

"Aw, yeah," Jayne said enthusiastically, carefully picking up the weapon. He held it like a small child might a precious flower. His eyes glazed with fascination and wonder. "Where in the hell'd you find a piece like this? Didn't even think they made 'em anymore."

"They don't," she yawned. "Stole it."

"Yeah? From where? Might have to take a side trip there sometime…"

Mal had been listening patiently, his fingers pointed in a triangle over the bridge of his nose. "Very pretty piece," he agreed. "Mind if we get back to more important matters? Like say, I dunno, who in the go-se are you and what are you doing stowing away on my ship?"

The girl's small brown eyes pierced into the captain's as best they could in their semi-dazed state. "Stowing away," she said defiantly, stating the obvious as though Mal should have figured that much out on his own.

"Sense enough," he agreed patiently. "Suppose the better question is _why_?"

"Firefly class has a lot of hidey holes," she told him simply, like this news should at all explain her presence there. She pulled at the bindings on her wrists and smiled. "You afraid I'm gonna take out the crew, man?"

Mal smiled grimly. He'd never been one for children, and he'd always been less of one for teenagers. He didn't care for their attitude, their arrogance or the way they always had a quick comeback for whatever you please. Worst part about teenagers was how they acted like adults but you couldn't punish them like adults. Hardly seemed fair that if some teen tried to start a tussle with you, you weren't allowed (legally, anyway) to tussle right back. You had to be "sensitive" and treat them with "respect". Because, after all, they were only children acting like grown ups. He looked over the muscular blonde girl strapped to his medic's table, guessing her age to be somewhere between seventeen and nineteen. Old enough to get knocked around, he decided. "Firstly," he began, his voice growing stern, "you will address me as 'Captain'. Not 'man'. Dong ma?"

"Shiny as polished pig shit," she told him easily.

"Good. Second, you're gonna start answering my questions in a somewhat helpful manner, or I'm gonna open the airlock and let anyone not able to run to a safe room get sucked right out into the black. Are we clear?"

She stared at him a moment, incredulous. "You sound like my dad," she said at last, looking a bit appalled. "Swear to God if you call me 'young lady' I'd rather have you toss me out the airlock."

"Fair enough," Mal reasoned, liking this girl less and less every second. "You got something better to be called, then?"

"Drew, I guess," she admitted. "My name is Drew."

"Fantastic. Tell me, Drew, you have a good reason for being on my ship?"

"Not good enough to satisfy your anger about it, if that's what you're essentially asking."

He nodded. So far he'd picked up a few helpful tidbits about Drew. One, she was a typical angry teenager who thought she understood the world and could best it. Which was fine. Malcolm Reynolds had dealt with that type before. Matter of fact, the entire outer Rim seemed to be filled with just that type. Second, she talked a lot like Simon, which meant she must have come from a well to do family- most likely from someplace around the Core. A runaway, perhaps? Some rich kid who got sick of living the fancy life and figures she'd take a ride out in the black? She sure acted tough, but an act would only get you so far out here.

"Okay then," Mal answered, "you got some other reason not made for satisfaction?"

"I left home a few weeks back. Decided I'd had enough of it. Needed to get lost enough so no one would find me. Can you untie me now?"

"Not just yet," Mal informed her. "Why'd you pick this ship?"

"I told you, Firefly has a lot of hiding places. I figured it'd be easier to smuggle myself on board someplace that had a lot of hiding places."

"And what did you plan on doing if you got caught?"

She looked at him blankly. "I did get caught," she informed him.

"So it seems." Mal looked her over again, trying to deduce more clues about her before deciding whether or not he should untie her. After all, Saffron looked mighty innocent when she'd first stepped on board, but everyone knew how that affair had turned out. "So what's your plan now?"

"Apparently to be thrown out the airlock if you have your way."

"You got anything else like this?" Jayne interrupted, still holding the gun as though it were precious metal.

"Yeah," Drew told him. "In my hidey hole."

Jayne's eyes popped. "Really?" His face took on the charm and eagerness of a child's on Christmas morning. Moving not so subtly to the door, he pocketed the handgun. "Better check that out," he informed the captain.

"Don't go stealing my stuff!" Drew yelled to him as his back disappeared out the door. "He's gonna," she muttered to herself.

"More'n likely," Mal agreed. "Course, I assume you did the stealing from someone else first?"

"No one important," she said bitterly. "What shall you do with me now, captain?"

He pondered carefully before answering. "Suppose I'll keep you locked in the brig, what you bein' a criminal and all. Figure out what to do with ya next time we touch ground."

"Do with me?"

"Whether or not to turn you in to authorities. You on the lam form something?"

Drew hesitated, her mind working at whirlwind speed. Would it be more beneficial to lie to this guy, or be honest? Truth be told she kinda liked him, and so far he had been nothing but civil to her. "More like running from some_one_," she announced, making no indication as to whether this was a lie or a fact. "My father."

"You under aged? A runaway?"

"No sir, I'm nineteen. Old enough to be on my own."

"You in trouble with authorities? I got news for you, miss, I don't-"

"Nothing like that," she said quickly. "Promise. I can see your vessel has a few… questionable pieces of cargo aboard. I don't mean to mess with your plans, get the unnecessaries on your tail."

The captain nodded, reluctantly believing her. She was just so candid and irritating it was hard not to. He scratched the stubble on his chin, contemplating whether or not she could be trusted to be untied and walk with him to the brig. Or extra guest quarter, whatever you called it.

"Who in the hell is that??"

Mal spun around to the doorway, where Simon stood halfway in the room, his jaw gaping. "Who is that?" he repeated.

"That'd be Drew," Mal said cordially.

"That's very nice, but… how in the… did she get on…"

"Stowed away, from what I understand. I haven't worked out the details on the 'why' and 'when' and, well, 'why', but from what I gather she's on the run."

"Not from the Alliance, I hope?"

Mal shook his head. "Not from what I gather."

"So all you have gathered is that she's on board?"

The captain frowned, displeased by his apparent lack of progress. "Yep," he admitted. "Seems this here girl could withstand hard interrogation."

"And can escape as well," Simon pointed out, looking past Mal at Drew. Mal turned to face her, judging by the look on his medic's face expecting to find Drew vanished. She was still on the table, though sitting cross-legged and holding her hand bindings out in front of her.

"You didn't check me for knives on my person," she informed the men staring at her.

"Didn't think I had to, you being unconscious," Mal admitted. "You're a sneaky little so-and-so."

"It's my job," she simply shrugged.

"You job?"

"Mal!" Jayne yelled, tromping down the stairs as loud as could be. "She got a whole big arsenal in that hole she been staying in!" His arms were loaded to the point of spilling over with guns of all sizes, some impressive knives and a few satchels of what have you. Jayne dumped them all onto Simon's sanitary countertops, making the poor medic wince. "Loads of this stuff, some of it real impressive. Too big for the likes of someone that small."

"It's not the size of your gun," Drew told him matter-of-factly, "it's how you wield it." She rethought the statement. "Although sometimes it really is the size of you gun."

"And how," Jayne agreed. "How'd you manage to smuggle all this on without anyone of us seeing?"

"Carefully," she told him, smiling a secret smile only women and professional assassins know how.

"That's the misplaced voice," a dreamy someone said from around the corner.

"River?" Simon called.

"I thought I could hear her dreaming… scary blackness… but I could not find the source." She peeked her head in, looking upon the face of the phantom thoughts she'd been hearing for days. "Now I have found the source."

"Well thanks for not ratting me out anyways," Drew said sincerely. "Although I suppose everyone would think you were crazy if you told them you'd heard a strange voice on the ship."

Mal, Jayne and Simon looked between one another, not sure whether this statement was just funny or frickin' hilarious. "They already think she is," River said knowingly, a spindly finger tapping her left temple. "Wrong in the head."

"I guess I would be too, living out here in the darkness so long. It's enough to drive anyone mad."

"Not like the Bureau, is it? Not dark enough."

Drew's brow wrinkled. "You been snooping through my things?" River shook her head. "Well your uncanniness is eerie all the same."

"Okay, enough of the chatter," Mal decided. He didn't know or trust Drew yet and he wasn't about to go letting River reveal too much of herself to the girl. "I'm gonna lock you up in one of my spare rooms, if it's all the same to you."

"Not at all," Drew complied, getting to her feet and spreading her arms out for the pat-down she knew was coming. Mal gave her a quick check and, with the help of Jayne, guided their new captive to one of the guest rooms. "Keep that one away from my stuff!" Drew demanded, nodding her head toward Jayne.

"Surely will," Mal assured her, much to his merc's disappointment.

As the boys headed back upstairs to find the womenfolk and have a meeting on their current circumstances, River crouched down in front of the prisoner's door, leaning her head against the thin mock-bamboo screen. She listened for a moment, waiting and curious. The door rattled as Drew sat against it, her back to River.

"You read?" she asked.

"Yes," River admitted, stroking the doorframe gently. Something was behind that door, something more than a girl. Something important and new and reassuring. She longed to see what it was, to touch it.

The prisoner sighed lightly.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Made for fun, not profit.

* * *

It became near impossible to keep River away from the locked "prison" door. At any given moment she could be found crouched in front of the door, whispering to it (whether or not Drew ever responded) and smiling. Her face had changed a bit since the arrival of the stowaway- her features were softer, more at ease. She almost looked like a teenage girl instead of an effective killing machine. Her brother tried keeping her away from the forbidden room, somewhat afraid that Drew was somehow sending subliminal messages to River and was trying to lure her back to the Alliance for more destructive testing. His sister would not be swayed, and even at those times he could lead her away briefly, chances were that within minutes she'd be back.

Mal and Zoe had done a thorough check on Drew through any and every network they had access to. No information turned up. She had no id in her personal affects, a physical description didn't turn up anything, and even entering her last name (which was apparently Dunham, or so she said) only brought forth about a million and one people, none of which were her. There was great debate on how best to handle the situation. The first was to let Jayne get in there and "convince" her to start being honest with them or out the airlock she would go (this idea appealed most to Jayne). Another was to confront her about her deception and see if maybe she would fess up to the truth, figuring that maybe she was a runaway who didn't want to be turned in (this was a Kaylee idea). A more practical solution (Zoe's) was to simply keep her on board until their next stop, then dump her to whatever authority there was and be done with her. The most surprising and controversial idea came from Inara.

"Maybe River should speak to her," she suggested calmly, her careful voice somehow winning its way over the bustling conversation.

"I don't know," Simon said immediately, to the surprise of no one. He was getting as predictable as a sunrise when it came to his sister. "I'm not sure she should be left alone with in there with her…"

"Not alone, of course. But maybe she should talk to her. River has a certain… we'll call it a 'knack' for knowing people properly. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I'm not sure how I feel about using my sister as a lie detector. Besides, that's not quite how her mind works. I don't think she can just turn it on and off like that."

"Inara might have a point," Mal chimed in. "I mean, your sister's got a keen sense of intuit, even if she can't read into people's heads as she likes. 'Sides, it'd make her a damn useful member of our little team here if she can use it at will. For good, you know."

"…As opposed to all the evil she's been doing with it?" Simon asked testily.

"Now he didn't say that," Kaylee said placatingly. "But it'd be awful nice to know if she could control it. Might even make her feel better."

"My sister is not a Ouija board," Simon said flatly, putting a pout on Kaylee's lips. "She's not a tool for us to exploit."

"Course she is," Mal said proudly. "You got medic skills that I feel I exploit on a regular basis."

"That's different. I chose to go to school for medicine, I practiced and it is something I like doing."

"Well, Kaylee ain't had no schooling on engines, and they suit her just fine. She just has a, as Inara said, 'knack' for 'em. And I use those skills as much as I can to keep us running. Now River may not have been born with what she got, may not have chosen it, but you gotta play with the hand life dealt you, ain't that so?" He smiled cockily, knowing a great point had been made. "Sides, it ain't like we're gonna force her if she don't want to. She says no then -"

"Yes," River interrupted. She was standing shyly in the doorway. "I will help."

"You don't have to if you don't want," Simon assured her. "It's ok if you don't."

"I know," she said flatly, giving him the sixteen-year-old _I'm not an idiot, I know that_ look. "She sees things she should not know… voices she should not remember. I wonder… is she like me?" River's words hung in the air heavily. No one was sure what the next move should be. "Dinner," River told them. "There is comfort in food. Trust." Her stomach gurgled softly. "Perhaps meat?"

"Protein meal," Zoe said apologetically. "So we should bring her out here with everyone?"

"She ain't done no one no harm yet," Mal reasoned.

"An' I got her entire weapon store locked up in cargo," Jayne added. "And I think I can take her if she starts acting up."

"Okay then," Mal decided, clapping his hands to indicate the "meeting" was over. "An extra for dinner, then." While the crew dispersed (except for Zoe and Kaylee, who agreed to make the best of dinner), Jayne pulled Mal aside. "Speakin' of her weapon store…" he said quietly.

"I already told you, you can't have it. On the off chance she's an innocent of everything but stowing away, she's gettin 'em back. I got no issue with her having stolen goods, so long as they ain't stolen from me."

Jayne pouted. "That's not what I'm saying," he said, although his disappointment was apparent. "Some of them guns she got are just… well weird. Nothing I ever seen before. And believe me, I seen a lot."

Mal quirked a half-intrigued eyebrow. "Weird how?"

"Well, she got this old-looking prototype style laser gun, only it don't shoot lasers rightly."

"Don't shoot lasers _rightly_? Indicating… what, it shoots 'em wrong?"

"Sorta. Like, it shoots 'em, but they don't hit nothin."

Mal pondered this notion awhile, and came up empty regardless. "You ain't making a whole lot of sense here, Jayne."

"I tested one out to see if it was a working model, or just a real old replica. Real fine piece, looked just like the one we lifted with that job with Saffron an' all-"

"Whoa whoa whoa," Mal cut off, waving his hands. "You shot a laser gun on my ship?"

Jayne shrugged, nonplussed. "Well, had to see if it was working."

"And it never occurred to you that you might just blast a hole in my wall, sucking out all our air and killing us all?"

"No, see," he retorted confidently, "I had a target."

"A target?"

"Steel box in the cargo area. Made sure no one was around to get hit."

Mal pinched the bridge of his nose. "Jayne," he began, choosing his tone carefully, "old style laser guns deflected off most hard metals."

"You sure?" He scratched his head. "I thought real old ones just singed it."

"Depending on how far back you go. Point is, don't be shooting things in my ship! Especially off planet!"

"Alright, fine! But you're missin' the point."

"You had a point?" the captain asked, truly incredulous. "Thought we was just gonna talk in circles for awhile."

Jayne frowned. "Yeah I had a point, ruttin' son of a bitch."

"Get to it already."

"Point is these guns she got… some of 'em are real fine pieces of machinery, some of 'em are real strange. Like that laser one I was saying about- it shoots, but the laser don't hit nothing. I saw it come out of the gun and hit the steel crate, but that was all. No mark, no damage, no deflection, nothing. Just… gone."

"Okay, so… what's this all mean?"

"Dunno. Ain't never seen anything like it. Seems real far advanced, though."

"You think maybe…" Mal's expression went dark. "Alliance?"

"If she ain't, this stuff is."

He nodded. "Thanks. The point you eventually got to was actually a real help." He started walking towards the bridge, his mind lost in all sorts of thought.

"You said it like I ain't never helpful!" Jayne called out, a little miffed that his extremely interesting find was regarded as something less than amazing. Still, the discovery wasn't as good for him as much as the getting to it part. You know, the part where he got to look over each impressive piece in Drew's repertoire without anyone harassing him not to touch. Some of them guns were real pretty.

* * *

As River, Jayne and Mal escorted Drew to the dining area, she took in the sights of the ship she had been too unconscious to notice before. "This is a very impressive ship," she informed the captain. "You keep her real shiny."

"Well, it's mostly Kaylee," he said modestly.

"Kaylee… I haven't met her yet, have I?"

"No. But you will. She'll be the one smiling about everything."

"Got it."

Serenity hummed and whirred affectionately, as though she knew there was a guest in her belly and she ought to be acting her best for the occasion. Several smells wafted themselves lazily from the dining area, some more pleasant than others. The sound of laughter and comfortable chatter accommodated them. Drew smiled slightly, unknowingly feeling the warmth and safety that this family provided one another.

"So," she asked, "not to sound ungracious, but why am I being invited to dinner?"

"Why, you prefer the solitude of your cell?"

"Ah, Captain Reynolds," she pointed out, "now it is you who is avoiding questions."

"Me?" he asked innocently. "The hell you say."

"Seriously, what's up? Have we reached a decision about my airlock-related fate?"

"In a way," he admitted as the entered the dining room. He indicated for her to sit, which she did. "We ran a search on you-"

"I had guessed as such, since you asked for my last name."

"Right. Well, we came up short. Like real short. Like you don't exist kinda short. Beans?" He handed her a steaming bowl.

"Thanks," she said, taking the bowl and piling heaps onto her plate. "Kaylee, right?" she asked the bubbly girl beside her.

"That's me," Kaylee beamed. "Bread?"

"Sure. So, captain, you discovered I'm not who I say I am. Or am I?"

"She's as annoying as the moon brain," Jayne muttered through a full mouth. "Talking in circles so nobody can understand her."

"Mouth. Shut. Thank you." Jayne scowled at Mal, but did as he was told. "Care to elaborate on that statement?" Mal continued.

"She is who she says," River told them. "But she is not real. Does not exist." To make an example, she rolled a tiny piece of bread between her hands into a ball, then popped it into her mouth. "Gone," she concluded, displaying her empty hands.

"That about sums it up," Drew smiled. "Surprisingly."

"So the question remains… who are you?" Mal chewed his food, patiently waiting for an answer, making it clear there was no need to hurry and neglect the food on her plate.

"Well, I guess I'd first have to explain that my name really is Drew Dunham. You'll just never find me anywhere because I've basically been erased from any records."

"Mighty convenient for you," Zoe admitted. "But that don't help us much, does it?"

"Guess not," she admitted. "Simon, right? Can you pass the- WHOA!" she suddenly screamed, jumping out of her chair and knocking Kaylee over into Jayne. She took a few steps back, her eyes spinning wildly around the room.

"Where is it?" River demanded, getting to her feet. Everyone else could only stare at her.

"_Whoa, chi-shi_!" Drew yelled, her voice full of panic. "Why didn't you tell me someone had died on this ship?!?"


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Done for fun, not profit

* * *

"I'm alright, I'm alright," Drew assured them. "I just didn't expect it." She went to sit again, saw something over Zoe's shoulder, then got up again. "Uh, is there… is there someplace else maybe we could go?" She closed her eyes, turning her head away. "Someplace not heavily trafficked?"

"Er, uh… ain't that big a ship, not sure where… you'd like…" Mal was staring at the girl warily, and rightly so. This girl was going to be more hassle than she was worth, that much was for absolute certain.

"I don't care, just someplace he's never been."

"And who's this now?"

"Whoever died here."

Everyone looked at one another uncomfortably. "Blonde?" Zoe finally asked. Drew nodded.

"Jayne's room," River said quietly.

"No way not in my room!" Jayne protested.

"Bizui!" Mal snapped. "No one is going anywhere until I find out what the hell is going on!" He rapped a knuckle on the table. "Now you, young miss, are gonna tell us what in the hell is going on with you right now, or so help me-"

"I can see ghosts!" she snapped. "I was on a job when your ship stopped on Macro so I stowed away to get as far from my team as possible. Stupidly, I didn't think you'd have any deceased on board, but boy was I wrong about that."

"Wait whoa, hang on just a second… now the running from the team I can understand…a little… but the rest is kinda fuzzy for me, so why don't you explain it nice and slow?"

"Explaining it won't make it make any more sense, but I'll try. Have you ever heard of the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense?"

"The… what now?"

"I understood 'defense'," Jayne admitted, "but that's about it."

"Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense. Or, BPRD. It's a very old, very secret organization that's been around since Earth that Was. It's over 600 years old."

"That's really, really old," Simon said.

"Yes. What the BPRD does is… well, exactly what the title suggests. They research and defend against- and sometimes for- paranormal phenomena."

"In other words," Simon explained for the benefit of pretty much everyone, "ghosts."

"Usually."

"You mean spooks?" Kaylee wondered, disbelieving. "You fight ghosts?"

"When they're dangerous. Sometimes it was just a matter of sending them on their way to the other side."

"The whiteness," River declared, reaching out as though she too could touch the light. "It's soft. Big. Comforting. It's like home."

"Tsway-niou," Mal spat. "You can't expect me to believe you go around shooting spooks and the like."

"You can believe whatever you want, captain. When the men came to my house I didn't believe them at first either. It was totally crazy- a group of people traveling around the 'verse, catching ghosts and talking to spirits and all that junk. I wouldn't have ever believed them if I hadn't been seeing things since I was six."

"Oh my!" Kaylee gasped. "You musta been so scared."

"Completely. But these guys came and explained everything I'd been seeing, and it all made so much sense. So I went with them."

"You went with a group of strange men when you were six years old?" Zoe asked, flabbergasted. "What did your parents think of all this?"

"They sold me to them." Drew smiled slightly, having expected the shocked silence that accompanied the revelation. "I really scared them, being able to talk to Grandma despite her death eight years before I was born. I don't blame them for it. I would've been scared too."

"That's just awful," Kaylee said sadly. "I dunno what I woulda done, being so young and scared and having my parents be too afraid of me to help."

"It was actually fun for awhile," Drew reassured her. "Like a game. They showed me how to use guns, how to fight, how to approach a spirit and not be scared. They erased all identity of me so I could be like a phantom myself… completely invisible. I was helping dead people find their way home. What could be better than that for someone like me?"

"Now, I ain't saying I agree with spooks and the like," Mal began, "but for conversation sake I'll buy it. So, you go around sending dead people home. Fine. So if it was so great, why'd you want to leave it? I imagine having been doing… whatever it is you've been doing for the past thirteen years, it don't bother you anymore. So why'd you leave it?"

Drew rolled her eyes, hugging herself. "Gosh… as it turns out, the BPRD is about as corrupt as every other form of organized government in the verse. I'm sure when it all began they had the best of intentions, but you know how that goes. The road to hell and all that. My teammates were going around the verse answering calls for haunting and sending ghosts on their merry ways, but there was a catch to it. Most- no, no I'm sure it was pretty much all- of the spirits and poltergeists we were sending back had been killed by my teammates. One of them, Paul, heard about the BPRD through one of his church protests. Kind of ironic, a hired killer being a religious man."

"Get all sorts of unusual out here," Zoe agreed.

"Yeah. Well, the church was protesting the Bureau, saying that there were no ghosts and that God would not allow uncared for spirits to roam the living world. They claimed all the BPRD did was strike fear into ignorant hearts and force them out of money for "false services". A Bureau representative was telling the townsfolk that most poltergeists are the result of spirits in distress, like those involved in violent murders. So that got Paul to thinking- there would be people wandering around talking to victims of some of his crimes. This guy is a real superstitious man, and he'd done a lot of killing in his life. What if some of these spirits tattled on him? He'd be locked away forever. Apparently he had a great number of victims, cuz he decided the best course of action would be for him to get himself a job in the BPRD and see to some of the ghosts himself."

"I guess that would make sense," Kaylee admitted, trying to piece it all together. "If you got witnesses that can talk, you'd wanna keep 'em quiet."

"And he did. But the thing is you can't just _become_ a member of the Bureau, especially not a field worker. He got hired as detail and maintenance, which basically meant he'd be filing reports and keeping inventory of weapons. He got real sick of that after a few months, so he stole some pretty high-tech equipment, found himself a partner, named Tanker, and they trekked out together. Only problem was that neither of them had ever seen a ghost in their lives. That's where I came in. I dunno how they heard about me, but they figured that my parents would be glad to be rid of me, and since I was just a little kid I wouldn't think to ask too many questions about their credentials.

"For a long time it was okay because I didn't know any better. They taught me some useful skills, to- basically, how to be an assassin. Sneaking around, stealing, hacking into systems, killing- which they called "self defense". Who the hell I needed defending from I never knew. But I went along with it until about a year ago, when one of the ghosts I encountered told me they refused to leave this plane until justice was brought on to Paul. I didn't know what the heck was going on until the ghost explained to me that Paul was the one who'd killed him and that his soul would never rest as long as that man was alive. So Paul shot it in the head with a cytoplasm pistol."

"What in the hell is that?" Jayne grunted. "Is that the gun I shot that didn't do nothing?"

"That's the one," Drew said calmly. "It only hits incorporeal beings."

"Inker?…"

"Spooks. Stuff that ain't really real. Like sunlight."

"Hell, sunlight's real."

"So are spooks. But you can't put a bullet through sunlight and you can't put a bullet through them, either."

"Point made," Jayne acquiesced.

"Right. So now I knew that Paul wasn't the field researcher he'd claimed to be. I decided to find out what else I didn't know about him. Turns out, a hell of a lot. He wasn't easy to find information on, so I had to turn to a more reliable source than a hacked computer network- the dead."

"So you just talk to 'em?" Kaylee wanted to know. "Like, call 'em up?"

"Kinda, yeah. It's really easy for me when I try. They can tell me all sorts of good stuff, too. Like how Paul wasn't the only assassin working in the BPRD. In fact, most of the work the Bureau was currently doing was covering up their own mistakes and murders. Wicked, horrible stuff. Kind of left me with no options, no one to report Paul and Tanker to. So I did the only logical thing to do-"

"You stowed away on my ship," Mal finished for her.

"Eventually, yeah. First I did some sneaking and stealing and hiding."

Mal got to his feet, looking unimpressed by the tale. "So you had a lot of time to think up this little… "explanation" we just heard."

She threw her hands up, exasperated. "I told you explaining it wouldn't make it any more believable."

"I'm all for the hard to believe, I seen my share plenty of things most people won't believe. But there's things here that don't ring true for me. Like how come Paul didn't get caught by that organization you're a part of? Guy like that running around with questionable weaponry… don't suppose the Alliance would take too kindly of it."

"Who do you think funds the BPRD?" Drew challenged. "When I said it was corrupt I really meant it. You all aware of Reavers?"

"Yes," everyone mumbled, still shaken by the idea of them.

"That's just one of the things the BPRD was sent to cover up. Unfortunately there's nothing spirit-like about Reavers, so there wasn't a lot we could do. But trust me, there is so, so much more the Alliance needs fixed without anyone knowing."

"But this guy ran off from the team," Mal challenged. "Knowing the feds they woulda goine after him right fast and taken him out. If he ain't in accordance to their law he's a liability. They don't like liabilities."

"You're right," Drew agreed. "I have no idea why he hasn't been caught yet or why they let him go. I know he got back in touch with the Bureau at some point and they seemed ok with him, but I don't know why. I just know he's still out there killing men and then getting rid of them forever. Leaving no trail."

"Uh huh," Mal said skeptically. He paced for a moment, the rest of his crew watching him with keen eyes. No one was really sure what to be making of the situation. It was a pretty tall tale to believe, and it seemed that Mal would not be swallowing this one. Finally, it seemed the captain had made up his mind. "Jayne, bring her back down to her room," he said flatly.

"I don't expect you to believe me," Drew told him as Jayne took her arm. "I know it's hard to-"

"Never said I didn't. Just have to mull it over, if you're shiny with that?"

"Ok," she agreed, obviously not buying it. "But there was one more thing before you go locking me up again."

"Hmm?"

"Just because he's dead doesn't mean he wants you spending more intimate time with his wife."

Mal stared at her blankly for a moment, not understanding for awhile. Realization seemed to come to him eventually, although he was wary of receiving it. "Who says that?"

She shrugged. "Whoever the blonde with the hole in his chest is."

---------------------

Drew spent the night in her guest quarters, door unlocked and free to roam about.

* * *

Excerpt from the daily journal of Simon Tam, June 18, addendum

I have yet to write that she can see ghosts. I'm not sure I believe her or not, though there is a strong case in her favor (such as giving us information on a former deceased pilot we all miss very much). I hate to admit that the idea that there are spirits among us scares me incredibly. This fact does not make me any less wary of her.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: Most everything is owned by Joss Whedon, not me. As an aside, the BPRD is not an original creation of mine but is borrowed from the world of Hellboy. No copyright infringment intended.

* * *

"So, doc," Jayne said casually, albeit mockingly as well, "you reckon this is a good day or a bad day for your crazy sister?"

Simon shook his head woefully, not entirely sure how to answer Jayne. Jayne was not looking for an answer, of course, just trying to be a pain in the ass. But the question, rhetorical or not, posed to be a good one.

_20 Minutes Earlier…_

River had been restless all night. Simon had refused to let her sleep in front of Drew's door, so instead she'd paced her room most of the night trying to get her own brain to shut up. There were so many questions to be asked, so many thoughts and hopes and wishes and dreams and prayers, and they all came so rapidly River wasn't sure she'd be able to hold them all in her head. Visions of her brain simply caving in or spewing out her skull in a fiery burst consumed the small corners of her mind not already filled with chatter.

When morning came she was almost catatonic, exhausted yet unable to sleep. Simon tried giving her medications, which she refused. Kaylee tried making conversation, which only annoyed her. Mal scolded her to shape up, probably hoping it would make her snap out of her funk. It didn't. It only made her more upset, which only served to prove how little Malcolm Reynolds understood teenaged girls. (If anyone can claim to.)

Drew wandered the ship uninterrupted. She was seeking out spooks, hoping to find no one on board more malevolent than the blonde with the wide, toothy grin. And the gaping hole in his chest. He followed her around curiously, not speaking, but watching. She figured he meant no harm and allowed his company. However, the small cytoplasm pistol was tucked safely into her belt just in case.

In the engine room was a scrawny, young boy who kept polishing the same piece of incorporeal scrap over and over. He acknowledged Drew, but didn't make much effort to be friendly. His concern lied too deeply into keeping the engine running, although the engine he sought to fix had long since been replaced. "_Amanda will have my head,_" he muttered to himself, occasionally getting up to tinker with parts that were not there any longer. Judging by the piece of his skull missing and the singed ghostly skin around it, Drew guessed some sort of explosion had brought this boy to his demise. He looked younger than she did, probably only fifteen, and it broke her heart.

A family of three occupied the cargo area for the moment. The child, no more than three, toddled around happily, chasing leaves across the floor that no longer seemed to be. Every family member was emaciated and weak, yet their smiles were powerful although sad. Jayne continued his morning exercise routine, unknowing that a toddler had just run past his foot.

"What happened?" Drew asked the father, who seemed to appreciate her addressing him.

He pointed at the huge cargo door. "_It opened," _he whispered, his voice eerie and still. "_We don't know why. We were living here, in the family area, many more couples with children surrounding us. The doors opened- some were drawn outside into the cold. My Kayla stopped breathing, turned blue. Annie held her limp body, choking on her own air. I'm so glad we're all safe now." _His smile was genuine, bittersweet. All he wanted was his wife and daughter, and an eternity trapped on the vessel that killed them seemed like a blessing as long as they were a family. Drew decided that later, maybe she would help send them on to the higher plane.

River stepped out onto the catwalk above Drew's head, her eyes glazed. Simon followed smartly at her heels. "You should go rest," he was instructing her, trying to get an arm around her shoulders. "Why don't we head back to your room?"

"They're everywhere," she informed him, stepping out of his brotherly embrace. "They come, they eat, the kill, they survive, they die. Everyone dies." She shook her head, a tear trailing down her cheek. "Not me," she whispered. "Not River. River never dies. She gets cut up and poked and prodded like lamb shanks, and she never dies." Her small hands gripped the railing tightly, her arms locked straight. It looked as if she might simply fling herself over, just to see if she would fall. "She'll go on forever," she continued. "And they keep coming and coming, never letting go of their property." Her eyes darted around the cargo area floor. "They're here," she muttered, letting go of the railing and chasing after a vision no one else could see. Her boots clamored down the steel steps. "They've come for everyone and they can't be stopped! They have to be stopped!"

"River!" Simon yelled, following close behind. "No one is coming, we're safer now than we've ever been. Beiebei, it's okay."

"What in the gorram hell is going on?" Jayne snapped, his barbell hitting its holder with a _clang_. "What's she on about?"

"If I knew I could calm her," Simon snapped irritably.

"They're everywhere," River marveled to no one in particular. "They want the flesh from her bones, to eat it and wear it and prize it like gold." She took a fighting stance, prepping herself for battle. "They won't hurt them. I won't let them hurt my friends."

Simon watched his sister carefully, trying to piece together whatever her drabble was supposed to mean. "I think…" he began. "I think she's remembering the Reavers."

"You mean the pack she took on all by her lonesome?" Jayne marveled, his tone now serious. "That don't seem like something I'd want to be rememberin'."

"River," Simon insisted, "they're not here. Honey you've got to trust me."

"Get out!" she yelled, panicked. "Run, run, go!"

"She took on Reavers?" Drew called from across the cargo bay.

"It… yes," Simon said wearily. He didn't want to indulge Drew in too much detail, and right this moment he couldn't be bothered to think of a lie.

"Hell, kill 'em, River girl!" Drew cheered. "Make 'em dead!"

"Drew, you're not helping!" he snapped.

She ignored him. "You did it once, you can do it again! No big deal!"

"_Drew_!"

"I won," River said quietly, almost amazed. She let her hands drop, apparently emerging slowly from her daydream. "No one lives. They take no survivors… and I won."

"Hells yeah!" Drew encouraged. "What good are imaginary Reavers when you creamed the real thing?"

River took this notion into consideration. Her body relaxed, her eyes lost their intensity. She was calculating now, a far less dangerous state of mind for her to be in. "The memories are real," she reasoned, working the math in her head. "They happened… but not now. It was all before."

"And why would it scare you?" Drew pushed. "You already beat this battle. So what if it happens again? Just do what you did before."

Simon watched, his mouth slightly agog, as his sister was completely disarmed. Stranger still, she was disarmed with logic. He couldn't understand- his reassurances had never comforted her. His medication made some things worse and some better. It seemed nothing he did would ever be good enough. Then again, he'd never tried stepping inside the nightmare with her to make it go away.

"They're just a memory," River concluded. "Not real."

"Exactly," Drew said, walking over and slinging an arm around the crazy girl's shoulders. "Let's eat, shall we? I've found that stolen cookies always make the world better."

"Did Wash tell you of the captain's supply?"

"Sure as hell did," she agreed.

Simon watched his sister walk away arm in arm with a hired ghost assassin. She was calm now. She was rational. She was going to steal Mal's cookies?

Jayne sidled up next to Simon, a smug grin on his face. "So, doc," he said casually, albeit mockingly as well, "you reckon this is a good day or a bad day for your crazy sister?"

Simon shook his head woefully, not entirely sure how to answer Jayne. Jayne was not looking for an answer, of course, just trying to be a pain in the ass. But the question, rhetorical or not, posed to be a good one.


End file.
